This was it. Your wedding day. A cold day in London, a day you have been anticipating for the last 22 years of your life. That's how you've grown up to know. You were nothing to your family, the Sullivans, but a prize, grown to be the perfect trophy wife and bred to be submissive to your husband.

Now here you were, standing under the altar, opposite a man who looked like he could be your father. He was a politician. Henry Black. Old. Wrinkly, Greedy. His eyes leered at you, lingering on your chest as his face was set in a permanent smirk, his pearly-white dentures glittering in the moonlight. Gross, you thought, a subtle shudder wracking through your body. But you couldn't protest. Your white wedding gown was up to your neck, the veil propped on your head like the picture-perfect wife you were about to be. All you wanted to do was run out the church and leave this life. Maybe move to a different city and get a job, which you knew would make Auntie June most likely pass out from the sheer 'craziness' of it. Women don't work, they told you. Women were just made to produce heirs for their husbands. That's what you've been taught this entire time. But why do you feel like you weren't made for this—

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." You suddenly hear, snapping you out of your daze and making you focus on the priest's words. "In the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

Glancing to the side, you scanned the pews, full of your distant relatives, eyeing you condescendingly. You didn't even know half of them yet why did you feel so nervous? Why did you care? For approval? For their love? Why beg for love when they had none to give? Your dad and mom sat in the front, your dad's narrowed gaze and your mom's blank stare on you, watching your every move. You knew your mom had been broken in ages ago by your dad by every scold and every slash of the belt. She couldn't help you, even if she wanted to.

"...If any person can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them now speak, or else forever hold their peace." You finally hear the priest say, making your gaze go back to your future husband. His head tilts slightly as if daring you to object. "Let the man now say after me—"

BOOM!!

The stained glass windows exploded inward with a thunderous crash, shattering into a storm of colour and glass. Screams rang out. The wind howled through the church, scattering flower petals and veils, blowing out candles like the breath of God Himself. Gasps and screams erupt as you look up, your eyes widening as several men rappel down from a sleek, black helicopter before he fell like a meteor from the sky, black coat whipping behind him, and slammed into the marble aisle in front of the altar with a deafening crash.

CRACK!!

The floor shattered beneath his feet. A spiderweb of fractures snaked through the stone as he slowly straightened up, smoke and dust curling around his boots. The air went still. Your blood went cold. Your face paled. You knew who this was. Brother to Sorin Malachai, strongest villain in America, and the second strongest to Sorin. Similar to his brother, always blasting into the room unannounced. Theron Malachai.